


Alright, Now

by MournfulSeverity



Category: Snow Cake (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Car Accidents, Guilt, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Road Trips, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MournfulSeverity/pseuds/MournfulSeverity
Summary: Snow cake fandom. A simple trip from Toronto to Winnipeg is cut short by a curious girl from a roadside diner and an unfortunate meeting with a semi. It's an accident that is all too familiar for Alex Hughes and one that will change his life forever.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Alright, Now

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing

..

* * *

2076 kilometers. That was the length of my trip and I'd driven little more than half of it. I'd spent every moment of that thus far on my own. Radio static and the occasional song my only companions. I was lost in the monotony of roadway signs and a never ending line of trees. Every turn I'd made, every section of the interstate looked the same: black interspersed by patches of grayed snow.

My car hummed to life in the parking lot of a diner in Upsala, just as it had in every other stop I had made along my way. This was no exception, nor would it be the last.

I had eaten the same bland food at each place, had slurped the same tasteless coffee, and enjoyed my momentary reprieve from driving, simply moving from the seat of my car to one beside a table. My road trip had become an endless asphalt path of repetition _._ Upsala brought only one small difference.

I glanced at her now through my rearview mirror as I put my car in gear, the tires disturbing the loose gravel beneath. She stood at the side of the road, cardboard held between gloved fingers and watched passersby ignore her and whatever it was her sign said.

She was a strange girl, talkative and utterly intruding. I didn't entirely appreciate her presence or the way she had taken a seat at my table. She struck me as odd, unwelcome by more than just me, yet I had found myself saying yes, acknowledging that she could, in fact, occupy the chair across from me. There had been hesitation in my voice, but if she had heard it, it didn't give her pause. Nothing, it seemed, did.

If only she knew. If only she knew the darkest part of me, perhaps then she wouldn't have rambled on about her "bleeding child" and instead had chosen some other poor sap to ask for a ride.

She was right about one thing, though. I was a man that needed to talk. I only wasn't sure if I knew the words that needed to be said, if I could form them without splitting myself in two.

I gave a sigh, now, as my car edged closer to the road, closer to my destination. I wasn't sure what it was that drew my foot towards the brake as I pulled alongside her. I didn't believe in karma. I wasn't sure I believed, even, in retribution. If I did, a teenage girl with purple in her hair certainly wouldn't earn me any points. But, her face was hopeful as she opened the door, the question of if she could join me shining through her eyes before it crossed her lips.

The truth was I _didn't_ want her to join me. I _didn't_ want to listen to the prattle of her nasally voice, and I certainly _did not_ want to hear about how I needed to "open up". Yet, I couldn't say no. I couldn't say no to someone so vulnerable, to someone as young as she standing alone in the cold. So, again, I let her stay.

She offered her name — Vivienne — as she slid into the passenger seat with a small bag of her things.

"Alex," came my response, my voice flat. I took a singular breath of pause, my eyes never falling from hers as I told her what she needed to know. What I was.

I wouldn't hurt her, the circumstances that had sent me to prison did not include a hitchhiker, nor did I intend on going back. I couldn't say the same for any other driver that happened upon her as they drove along this road.

That was the reason I told myself that I let her join me, that I let her stay.

Even the truth didn't scare her, the admission of the monster that lived inside me, or that had once. _A murderer._ The word tasted funny on my lips. That singular thing had so quickly become my biggest descriptor, escaping me as a warning before anyone ever really knew me, ever really knew what happened.

But, I found myself nearly grateful she was here as my journey continued, this time with a stop in Wawa.

She was unlike anyone I had ever met. Her questions skirted around every part of my life, even the ones I didn't find myself privy to, my sex life, my romantic relationships, things I had given little thought to over the years. She had a tendency to chat when no one else cared to hold a conversation. Yet, I found myself replying, asking questions of my own as we drove, the car blurring our surroundings of snow covered trees and the guard rails that kept them away. A gray monochrome against a cloudy sky.

Though I kept the thought to myself, I found her presence welcome. I found meaningless conversation from someone who didn't know me, didn't know what had happened, enjoyable. The solitude that I had found so pleasant before now paled in comparison.

I missed companionship more than I cared to admit. It was not a title I had assigned to cell mates, and perhaps I shouldn't give it to a hitchhiker, but she was young, innocent. She didn't yet know the horrors this world held and I found myself missing that same perspective. A perspective that hours into our trip let her slip into an easy slumber beside a stranger as I fell once more into my own thoughts.

Winnipeg was still hundreds of kilometers away, my trip suddenly longer with the stop I had promised her. My eyes were tired as they followed along the road, glancing from the mirror, to the radio, to a sleeping Vivienne and back again.

I felt a low grumble in my stomach, the beginning pleads of hunger. What I'd eaten at the diner now digested in the hours that had passed. I knew Vivienne had drunk only a diet coke and I found myself pulling off the road, searching for the golden "M" against a skyline of white.

I woke her and we ate, her questions and silly insinuations beginning once more, and I told her. I told her that I was alone, that the members of my family were either dead or estranged. The ordinary person would have paused in conversation, would have given their condolences despite knowing nothing about my life, my relationships. In this, too, she was different, and again, I was glad.

Those parts of my life no longer mattered, they no longer kept me awake at night, followed by questions of "what if". They had become a fact in my life, as sure as the sun would rise each morning. I didn't need pity, and she didn't offer any.

We traversed the roads once more, driving until we began to see signs of our — _her —_ destination. It was then she directed me, telling me where to turn, which direction to drive until our car passed a sign of white and blue that read "Welcome to Wawa."

"Here, turn here", Vivienne pointed with an excited wag of her finger, directing me into the parking lot of a catchall business — a diner, a convenience store, and a gas station all rolled into one. I did as she said, my lips giving the twitch of a smile.

Her voice was happy, animated, and her mother only miles away. I pulled into a lot, stepping on the brake as she flung the door open.

"I'll be just a minute."

I watched her step towards the building, the small bell on the door giving a ding of welcome as she disappeared inside.

Vivienne and I had only a few minutes more together, a few more roads to drive down before she would be home and I would find a motel in which to spend the night.

926 kilometers to go.

I pulled to the pump, popping the gas cover and waited as the attendant filled the car. I watched the number on the pump climb, each zero ticking by. I handed him change as Vivienne came bounding down the diner steps once more, a plastic bag held in her hands.

She pulled on the handle, joining me inside the warmth of the car and inviting in the smallest bit of chill. She showed me her purchases, a grin stretched across her cheeks. I would have considered her an excitable person before this moment, but the Vivienne who sat beside me now was different from the one who had stood in the snow looking for a ride.

She gave the bag a whack and lights twinkled inside the plastic shopping bag, the colors distorted across her lap as music drifted from within. Her mother, it seemed, was a curious creature and I nearly found myself intrigued enough to ask. Instead, I gave the key a turn and the car groaned into life.

We pulled from the business, a song by "Free" blared through the speakers, turned up to her liking. Her voice mingled with the words, careless, out of tune, but that wasn't the point.

We met a stop sign and my foot pressed against the brake, the car just forward enough for me to glance down the road.

My foot met the gas again as I turned my head, easing onto the road when I was met with silver. The beginning blare of a truck horn that fell into the music of the radio, stretching into silence beneath the unforgiving crunch of metal.

My body was flung sideways, held too tight by the seatbelt across my chest. Vivienne no longer sang, but if she screamed, I didn't hear. I could hear only the shattering of glass, the sides of my car rolling against the asphalt, pressing inward, the hiss of an airbag.

I saw nothing. Everything around me blurred together, swirled into a singular, muddy color. I no longer knew which direction was up, only that whatever direction my body hung in was incorrect.

My head swam as the car finally came to a stop. It gave a gentle throb, less painful than what I felt across my ribs. There would be bruises, that I was sure of, but anything beyond that seemed too hard to think about.

Silence returned. There was no music, no voice, no semi. There was only cold and smoke and pain.

I glanced around me, my view distorted by the smashed glass of the windshield. The mirror that should have hung from it had snapped, fallen somewhere in the process of our crash and stolen another part of my sight.

I felt my blood begin to move again, begin to warm inside my body although I didn't know when it had ever frozen. I felt leather beneath my fingers as I moved them against the wheel, felt the fabric of the insoles of my shoes beneath my toes. I was accompanied only by a headache, shock, and pain where the seatbelt held me. Everything else seemed fine, even if it was upside down.

I turned my neck slowly, glancing towards the other side of the car, the seat that held Vivienne.

The purple of her hair was now stained by scarlet, scarlet that trickled along her neck before disappearing beneath the hem of her coat. She was turned away from me. I couldn't see her face, couldn't see her eyes… _couldn't see if she was alive._

I glanced hurriedly downwards, my sight settling on her chest in search of a breath, no matter how feeble. She was still beside me, her chest unmoving, by breath or beat.

" _Viv...Vivienne_ ," my voice trembled with worry as I fought against my restraints, fought to bring myself closer to her with the foolish hope that I could shake life back into her listless being.

I reached my hand out toward her, clawing against the fur of her coat as I tried to pull away. The breast of it was torn, red beneath my fingers. A blood that wasn't mine. I pulled harder against it, tearing it away from her.

 _"Vivienne,"_ I begged again, my voice drowning beneath the trill of a siren.

The sound of it sliced its way through my forehead, branching across my scalp in agony and I closed my eyes. Pain was nothing when I was alive. When I was alive and she wasn't.

I felt a grip against me then, heard the click of my seatbelt and felt the sagging of my body as it gave into gravity. I blinked my eyes open as I scrambled from my spot and through the now missing door.

"No," I began, my thoughts disjointed. "Help...help her. She's…I'm…" _fine. I was fine._ My thoughts were severed by the revving of a saw, by the jaws of life that had come to my aid now going to hers.

I tried to watch, but I was pulled away, dragged towards the ambulance that awaited us. I was forced downward to sit against the bumper and I could see her no more. If she sputtered to life or continued into the welcoming of death, I wouldn't know.

I listened half heartedly to the hum of questions from the EMT that stood in front of me, his hands grazing against my arms, my legs, proving that I was okay.

Then there was rushed chatter, voices layering themselves over one another and swelled with concern. I pushed myself away from the ambulance, from the man that tended to my lack of wounds. I walked instead to the accident and my upside down car, to the lifeless form that they pulled free.

She was limp against the hands that carried her, placing her on a stretcher they had rolled beside the car.

They did what I could not. Her clothes were pulled away, cut open despite the chill of winter air and the biting breeze it brought.

I watched from a distance, but still I could see the blood that covered her, that soaked through the leg of her trousers. She had taken more than enough injuries for the both of us.

One of the men that stood beside her pressed his hands against her chest then, his fingers locked over one another as he pushed downward again and again, his movements rhythmic and determined before he paused, blowing a breath inside her. It continued, and I watched. Beat. Beat. Breathe. Beat. Beat. Breathe.

No one came to pull me away, to divert my attention from the great tragedy that I had caused. From the second person I had killed. Instead, everyone had moved to stand beside Vivienne, to edge her back towards the winter road of Canada.

There was a gasp, a movement, and I froze again, my body solidifying in its place, freezing atop the tarred street. But the world around me kept moving. The EMTs rushed her aboard the ambulance, no longer determined for her heart to start beating, but to _keep_ it that way.

I stumbled towards them, towards her. I would lie about my kinship if I needed to, lie about why the two of us were together. I was old enough to be the girl's father and it was a role I could temporarily accept if it meant a ride in the ambulance with her, a place beside her bed in the hospital to make sure she was okay. But, no one asked.

I was guided inside, sat on the passenger seat as the siren was started once more and the engine of the ambulance pulled us across the road with the flashing of lights.

The driver said nothing. There was no small talk to fill this moment. No question that I could consider forming the answer to. No formality of asking how my day was when the answer involved a car accident. There was only quiet beneath the cry of the siren. I strained my ears, hoping for any noise, any clue to what was happening in the bed of the ambulance, the section that held Vivienne. I begged for any sign, any belief that she was okay, any reprieve from the agony that had overcome me, but that had nothing to do with my own body.

A bloody nose. It was all I had sustained.

I didn't know how far away the hospital was, I didn't know the size of Wawa in terms of distance, I knew only that this drive, from the diner to the hospital, was longer than all the hours Vivienne and I had spent together that day. It was more tortuous than any question she had asked and I found myself wishing we were simply back at the conversation of my sperm count. It was a topic much more welcome than the visage of death that loomed here.

The ambulance stopped suddenly, my body rocking beneath the sudden application of the brakes. The siren was cut off a final time and the driver slid from his seat, leaving me here alone. My fingers fumbled against the handle of my door, shaking as I tried to free myself. I forced it open, my feet meeting concrete once more, my legs weak and trembling beneath me as I watched.

I heard the doctors that had met the ambulance, I heard the EMTs explain what they had found, what I had done. I heard medical jargon that I didn't understand as she was swept away through sliding glass doors and I trailed after her.

There was no one to guide me, to hold my hand through this ordeal. I followed instead like a puppy who had been abandoned, desperate for answers, for an assurance that everything would be fine, that _she_ would be fine. Instead, I was directed to a waiting room.

I collapsed inside a chair, unable to stand despite the fact that I had done little more than sit that day. My elbows met my knees and my head fell downwards into my hands.

The darkness that my palms provided eased the beating of my head, but it could not quiet the voice that accompanied it.

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

_Again._

The face of my son swam into view and I didn't know how I was here, again, how in the space of a few years I had taken a life not once, but twice. The fact that both events were accidents did not comfort me. I instead found only excuses. The excuse that I hadn't done enough, that I hadn't paid enough attention, that I had been worried only about myself.

Now, the trinkets Vivienne had bought her mother sat somewhere inside the remnants of my car, discarded, broken, just like her. If I could get them back, if I could get them to her mother, maybe that would be enough. It was all I had to offer alongside my empty apology that could not bring her daughter back.

I forced myself from the chair. I would find my way back to the scene, to our belongings. To singing, colored balls and the pack that Vivienne had brought with her, to what remained of her.

There was the squeal of a door, the sigh of hinges and I paused in my steps, hopeful for an answer. I was met with the face of who I guessed was a doctor.

"Mr…?"

"Hughes," I supplied. I was the only one here. The only one waiting. This could only be about Vivienne.

"You're from the car accident?" The doctor asked, coming closer towards me and gesturing for me to sit again.

"Yes," I did as she asked and she joined me.

"The girl you were with, does she have a name?"

"Vivienne…" my voice trailed with realization. We had spent the entire afternoon together and I couldn't even provide her full name. Couldn't give the one thing that was asked of me."

"Vivienne," the woman repeated, more to herself than me. "And your relation?"

My previous plan crumbled in my fingers, falling apart before I'd ever been able to use it. I couldn't claim parenthood when I didn't even know her last name.

"None," came my answer, my voice quiet and ashamed. "I was giving her a ride."

The doctor nodded, acting as if such a situation was commonplace, that dying hitchhikers entered her ward by the hour.

"Is there anyone we can contact? Anyone you know?"

"No." I glanced downwards, my vision focused on the lines of my palms, blurring for the briefest of seconds. "Is she…" I trailed again, unable to form the question I needed to ask.

I was answered with a sigh.

"She's alive, but only just. Vivienne sustained numerous injuries in the car accident and any recovery she has will be lengthy, but she's alive."

I looked upward again, meeting the kind face of the woman who sat next to me. Alive. It was all I could hope for.

0 kilometers. Here, for now, was where I needed to be.


End file.
